The ants are now but a distant, sad memory. Three batches. THREE! And they all died within three days! We thought at first we killed them, but when the second batch died after we greatly restrained ourselves, we began to wonder. Mold? Had the recent deceased left the scent of the dead in the air? Well Carolyn thoroughly cleaned it and ordered another. Another!
"This is it! If the ants don't work, no more!" Excitedly Carolyn and I felt like pros, so we stuck them in the refrigerator for ten minutes to slow them down (as suggested), then began to dump them in.
Failure.
I grabbed a scrap piece of paper, smaller than a 4x6 note-card, and funneled it. Well, Carolyn held the tube and tapped them in, they began to fall right in. Perfect. Then, she mis-tapped and one fell onto the counter. Well, refrigerated or not, these things are fast and big and can possibly sting. Thinking that all had fallen into the farm that were in the card, I let it go in order to trap the other. Then I freaked out.
The only way I can justify being a 23-year old woman who screamed and flipped out at ants is to say that movies affect the imagination. "Eight-Legged Freaks," "Honey I Shrunk the Kids," and even "Ant Man," leaves an impression and as I saw those ants climbing up and out of the funnel all I could think was - they are coming for us. In the confusion I can't remember if I knocked the paper down or Carolyn did - but she screamed and the funnel was knocked. Every single ant now was scurrying on the counter in every which way. I took a pop can and tried to trap one. Thankfully, there was a container nearby with water guns. I dumped them out and placed it over the ants. We calmed down, then I realized we would somehow have to get them in.
Actually that was the easiest part. Carolyn took an envelope and I let one at a time out. She the shook it into the farm. Thirty or so ants were saved that day. But maybe in retrospect I can understand how they died - who could survive that kind of trauma?
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